


Drafting

by orphan_account



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-04
Updated: 2014-02-04
Packaged: 2018-01-11 04:38:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1168789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Celeste Domitius-Spence is the result of a Time Lord experiment in mixing human and Gallifreyan DNA; they are attempting to create a 50/50 Human/Gallifreyan, but so far they have come up empty handed... [An OC companion of the 8th Doctor's I'm currently working on, feedback on the story idea & character would be absolutely wonderful]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drafting

**Author's Note:**

> Just a bit of drafting I’ve been doing for an OC, I’m planning on writing a set of stories AU to what happened to the Eighth Doctor after the TV Movie. Feedback would be very much appreciated!

Celeste Domitius-Spence is staring down at her homework with glassy, distant eyes. She cannot find it within herself to concentrate on her academics when she can see the stars outside her window, twinkling like a forbidden promise. She has dreamt many a time that a Time Lord would materialise in and take her off to their home planet. The fleet is not the place for someone like her; she can do so much more than attempt to understand how her kind developed time travel. She wants to put her knowledge to use; she wants to get her hands on a real TT Capsule. She wants to go to that star over there and discover what life form lives there; what life form used to live there, what life form may live there in the future. She wants to explore, not sit inside her bedroom all day, writing about why time travel is possible without gaining any experience of it.

It is a ridiculous dream. She knows that. But her father is on Gallifrey, according to her birth records, so sometimes whilst she drifts off in to the more imaginative parts of her mind she wonders what would happen if he ever came for her. He must know she exists. He has to – why else would he donate for ‘the cause’? Yes, she assures herself, he knows of my existence. I bet he asks about me all the time. Any day now he will come for me; claim me from this dull fleet and take me home. And then I can go to the real Academy and get a Capsule of my own, and with that I can explore every galaxy I can find…

She exits her dazed state and begins tracing the words of her circular Gallifreyan writing. Professor Gratiana had told her that she is getting better at it, and she had been bursting with pride. Of course, she still enjoys writing in the usual human English handwriting too, but something about finally being able to write in the language of her home excites her. After she gains this knowledge and refines it they will not be able to deny her access to Gallifrey; if her father does not find her then she shall find him. She places her sonic pen in to her inner pocket and pushes herself out of her chair, deciding that a walk around the gardens is in order. 

She supposes the concept of her fleet would be quite exciting to someone who has not grown up on a place like this. Two children race past her, giggling as their burgundy robes billow out behind them. She pulls her own closer, checking the pocket again to ensure her sonic is still there. She would be put in to confinement for a week if they knew she had built a sonic device, but she could not resist putting that knowledge to the test; it had cost her five weeks’ worth of credits and even then she had to use the black market to buy the required pieces. It took a lot of time and effort but she managed to do it, in the end. She was incredibly proud of herself; if only she had someone to share her excitement with.  
‘The gardens’ are not outdoors; nothing is when you live in a spaceship with built in temporal displacement. It is as close as you can get, however. This is Celeste’s favourite place on the fleet due to the fact that it is a replica of Gallifrey’s landscape blended with Earth’s – the grass is blood red whilst the sky is the brightest shade of blue she has ever seen, the trunks of the trees are a deep brown whilst their silvery leaves sparkle in the two suns burning light. It is different every time depending on the day; sometimes it’s entirely Gallifrey and sometimes Earth, sometimes the sky burns orange whilst the grass is green, sometimes there are wild flowers of all kinds of colours and sizes, and sometimes – although it is rare – she will enter to find that snow is covering the ground. But for now it is a blend of her home worlds, Earth and Gallifrey. But she would prefer it to be Gallifrey. She always prefers Gallifrey.

There are a few people in here already – clusters of friendship groups sat gossiping, families on picnics and whatnot. Celeste ignores them as she wanders over to her favourite tree, shrugs off her outer robe and places it on the grassy floor. Once she is sat down she pulls her knees in to her chest and begins idly stroking the blades of the red herb. This day is absolutely baking hot, so much so that some of the others have slipped their robes off their torso so they hang at the waist. If only I could be so bold, she thinks to herself, but unfortunately Celeste is a fifty year old with the body of a sixteen-year-old.  
She pulls her ID card out of the pouch around her shoulder and takes yet another look. It has her full name stated on the front along with her citizen number, her date of birth, her age and her Gallifreyan and human status. Celeste’s mother was half Gallifreyan whilst her father was a pure Gallifreyan, so Celeste is lucky enough to be 24% human and 76% Gallifreyan. The experimentation she underwent upon birth stated that she has a human anatomy with the exception of two hearts; this has caused a couple of health problems from time to time (for example, once she was emitted to the emergency ward after one of her hearts stopped beating, which she was later told was the ‘humanity attempting to fight the Gallifreyan genes’) but her Gallifreyan genes are dominant, so with the prescription of a drug she cannot even remember the name of (never mind pronounce) her hearts should carry on as normal. She brushes her hand over the bottle they are in. That is a bad habit of hers, but without those she would most likely die so it is an unsurprising one at that.

Somewhere between staring at her ID card and listening in to a conversation a group of her classmates are having, Celeste finds herself dozing off. Another defect of her human genes is that she has to sleep a lot more often than the pure Gallifreyans, although it is only for around five hours every twenty-four hours or so. So, to stop the tiredness from dragging her in, she heaves herself off the ground, throws her outer robe over her shoulder and begins walking towards the small gathering of trees a lot of them incorrectly refer to as ‘the woods’. She can spend an hour or so cataloguing the Gallifreyan wildflowers she finds there before heading off to bed…


End file.
